Your Princess is in Another Locker Room
by cleromancy
Summary: Mangaverse. Ever since losing the Miss Duel Academy Pageant, Seika's been waiting for her chance for a rematch. But she might have underestimated her opponent.


**warnings:** mentions of self-harm, bullying, hair-pulling, body image issues

well, I realized I only ever seem to write boysex so have some ladies instead.

* * *

It's all because she thinks she's so good, Seika thinks to herself, that Tenjoin Asuka, she thinks she's better than everyone. She acted like such a good girl, everyone said, when they really meant she didn't act like a girl at all because she didn't think things like praise and beauty and the Miss Duel Academy Pageant were worth her precious esteem. Saying things like, she'd rather be seen as a duelist and not as a girl, when anyone knew that was bullshit, because better to be seen as a girl than nothing at all. Not something worthy of touch or love. Seika hates it, she hates her, Tenjoin Asuka, that uppity freshman bitch who thought she had so much to prove.

That's why Seika catches her alone in the girls' locker room, on a weekend day (who bothers in the gym on a Sunday? Just proves she shouldn't have bothered, or she wouldn't be in this situation). Asks her, who does she think she is? Acting like she wanted to throw the pageant, when she knew everyone was in love with her. When she knew this was really important to some people.

Asuka untied her hair and calmly said she just wasn't interested and that was that, and if they'd respected her right not to participate, no one would have had this problem. Her light hair cascades down her shoulders like a waterfall, and Seika can't stand it, because of course she's younger and prettier and probably could win the pageant every year without even trying, and the biggest slap in the face is that she doesn't care, and how dare she not care how fucking pretty she is? When some people might lie awake scratching their arms every time they think about a girl's pretty legs and hips and hair and rack and push their hands against the hard steel industrial bolts on the sides of the bedposts to keep them out of their panties because they know they're better than that, than fucking up and losing to some other hot bitch who knows she could have it all?

Seika sneers, well, look who thinks she's better than the rest of us stupid chicks all lining up like cattle, huh? Got any more enlightenment for those of us who're too stupid for the princess, huh? She's too perfect to even get mad-

Stop, Asuka says, and to Seika's delight she sees the little princess's hands are balled up into fists, shaking. I never said any of that, she says. Stop deciding what I think, she says.

I don't have to decide, Seika says airily, I just have to know. And I know you're just trying to get in good with the guys so maybe they'll take you with them to the Pro Leagues, since you're too frigid to sleep with the direc-

Asuka slaps her across the face, and it hurts like fuck. Seika reels back a couple paces, her hand to her stinging cheek that's already hot with the pain. And then she grins, and slaps back, this one hard enough to send the little princess back into the lockers behind her with a hollow crash.

So, Seika says, triumphant even in her pain, so the frigid ice princess has some fight in her after all. I thought you were never gonna stand up and-

She's cut off when Asuka launches forward and shoves her back into another row of lockers. She's angry, there's red high in her cheeks, and despite that she's still the prettiest angry girl on campus, and it's so unfair Seika has to dig her nails into her own thigh as punishment for thinking what she's thinking. (This is why you're a shit duelist and a worse Miss Duel Academy, Seika, she hisses at herself in her mind.)

Shut up, Asuka says, and it sounds so unlike her that Seika wonders is she is on the verge of tears. So much so that the idea of making her cry is so satisfying. (Seika hates it. This. Seika hates thinking that because she knows she's so ugly on the inside, ugly ugly, ugly when she wants pretty things and can't have them because she doesn't deserve the pretty girls because she can't just be normal and satisfied with the pick of the panting teenage guy litter here, can't let them see it when she forgets to be good and scratches herself up to find the ugly inside and pull it out, so she just hates and the hate is ugly and so is she.)

I think you should show some respect to your seniors, Seika hisses, and rushes back at Asuka, slams her against the locker again but this time she grabs a handful of her hair and pulls, pulls until those tears come out. You think you're so much better than us that you have to go slum with the Red boys? Precious, pretty Asuka-chan, she singsongs, twisting the roots of her hair back and forth to stifled sobs, too pure and good to want a man-

Stop, Asuka says, and now she's crying for real, not just pain, face twisted and hot angry tears running down her cheeks. I'm not. I'm not. (It brings another hot rush of shame and hate, and Seika pretends the hate is for Asuka and her pretty, pretty legs that some stupid boy is probably gonna open one day (that Misawa probably) and not her.)

I don't believe you, Seika says. You're pretty, yeah, but you're just so cold no one wants you.

And then, to Seika's surprise, Asuka grabs her by the wrist, pulling down on her own hair, and sobs aloud, I'm NOT, and now she's been crying so long not even Seika can say she looks pretty anymore, at least not in the face. Seika knows that look. Seika knows that look, as she lets go of Asuka's hair and the princess grabs two handfuls of it herself, gripping into it with whitened knuckles and breathing hard until she gets under control, and Seika knows that breathing and those white knuckles because they're the same as the scratches and the bedposts and the quiet crying late at night because you are the only one who knows how ugly you are inside.

Show me, Seika says.

Asuka looks up, shocked, finally not sobbing anymore (but her face is still wrecked with tears). Seika takes a big step forward, close enough that their chests almost touch. Show me, she says. Asuka stares at her, dumbfounded. After a few minutes, the hope that had blossomed for a second in Seika's chest now curdles back into a hard resentment; she jerks her chin up, as if to say she knew it, before turning to go.

And that's when Asuka reaches out for her face and slams them together, pressing her soft girly lips to Seika's own (Seika can taste her Vaselined lips; she doesn't even use flavored chapsticks). They break apart. Gone are Asuka's tears, replaced by a hard, cold gleam. The look she has when she duels. Seika's knees almost buckle. But she controls her voice. Is that it? she asks. Tosses her hair behind her as if to say, she's seen better.

That was it. That was the trick of Tenjoin Asuka: make it a duel. Because now her eyes are blazing with the challenge, and her mouth is set, and she really is like a boy that way for all she is too fucking gorgeous, because boys are really easy to wind up and set loose. Because now, Asuka still hates her (and Seika can live with that), but she's kissing her anyway, kissing her like a total amateur but points for effort.

Oh, hon, Seika says, no. You're gonna break your teeth. And now she takes Asuka back against the lockers, not ungently this time, and pushes her tongue behind her teeth, Asuka making a confused noise in her throat but otherwise not really fighting beyond her hands balled in Seika's uniform jacket. It's different, Seika tells herself, it's different because this is about being her senpai and teaching her how to get on in the real world. She tells herself, while Asuka slowly gains confidence, and starts pushing back with her own tongue.

Seika takes one of Asuka's hands and guides it under her jacket, on top of her bra. Then she puts her own hand on Asuka's boob, spreading her fingers and caressing slowly, and she feels Asuka gasp and-and, wonder of wonders, her knees press together, like an instinct, as if she were getting wet from this? Asuka doesn't reciprocate anything for Seika's breasts, instead roaming to her back and digging her nails in.

We've got a fighter, Seika gasps, and she's not supposed to like that but she does, she really really does.

And now she wants to hear Asuka be a girl, forget that she's all hot-blooded and a duelist and whatever, Seika wants to make her whimper and sigh like a girl, Seika's her senior and that means she deserves respect. It takes what feels like hours, the both of them unwilling to give any ground, making out harder and harder until Seika can feel her lips bruising and sucks at Asuka's in return, Asuka writhing every time Seika dares to play with her nipple, which gets more and more frequent, until Seika's hand finally drops to Asuka's thighs, which keep pressing together.

To Seika's surprise, Asuka's hand-the one not on her back-grabs her hand and guides it up her skirt. Took you long enough, she whispers. Oh, Seika thinks, this is new, this is very new from the perfect Miss Duel Academy, but instead of saying it, she just pushes her fingers against Asuka's underwear and rubs her through the fabric. The change is near instant; Asuka shudders and loses some of her balance, and to help, Seika pushes her whole body against her, pinning her to the locker, her hand slipping beneath the panties and rubbing her directly-she doesn't shave down there, huh?

Now, Seika thinks, now we'll see the real little princess here, and she's not disappointed, as Asuka shudders again and almost melts into Seika's hands, breathing hard, her head slamming back against the locker as Seika pulls away from her lips to watch her face. She strokes, and Asuka groans, she's already hot and wet down there, and her eyes are half-lidded and cloudy. Seika changes her mind and puts her lips to Asuka's throat, over her pulse, and strokes again. Asuka moans again and Seika hears it through her own lips.

Harder, she says, but Seika just strokes her again with two fingers, no harder than before. Asuka makes a sound, and Seika pushes away again. Respect, little freshman, she reminds, in that same singsong voice. Respect.

Asuka doesn't say anything for a few moments, but then, with a groan in the sound as if admitting defeat: Harder, senpai, please.

What was that? Seika says. I didn't hear you.

Please, she says, louder, all but squirming on Seika's fingers. Senpai, please... please...

And Seika loves it, loves having little Miss Duel Academy begging for her, so she pushes harder, getting two fingers up into her and then stroking back for her clit, cupping her and teasing her and working her up and up, and Asuka is gasping and making little high-pitched girly sounds, Seika is going to warm her bed with this for months, until finally Asuka spasms on her hand, he head banging the locker with a hollow sound, a slight shriek bursting out of her, but Seika's not done and pushes again while she has her here, and Asuka comes again, shrieking softer this time but higher-pitched, and then she is tense, balancing on the edge for a moment, and then she comes down from it, letting out a long sigh as she slumps down the lockers. Seika lets her, lets go and steps away, so she slides down on her own and sits on the floor panting, looking up at Seika, at her senpai, yeah, her _superior_. Seika, the victor today.

I take it all back, Seika says, smiling beatifically, bending down to run a hand through Asuka's hair, before standing tall again. You really do deserve your title. I hope we can be friends in the future, Asuka-chan. _Ja ne_, she adds, turning around to head out the door.

I'll take you on again anytime, she hears behind her, and as she turns the corner for the door, she catches a satisfied grin on the other girl's face, resting against the lockers, before the door slams shut between them.


End file.
